Ripples
by forever-a-thief
Summary: Mutants have been disappearing, and Raven demands Erik get to the bottom of it when their friends start disappearing, too. So, Erik gets himself kidnapped as well to break them out. It was a simple plan, really. Apparently, not simple enough.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Prepare yourself for excessive italics. Sorry, it just sort of ****_happened_****.**

It had been nearly a year since Erik Lehnsherr had deflected that fateful bullet into the back of his dearest friend, Charles Xavier. It had been an accident (Charles stood up at the exact _wrong_ moment), but Erik had flown into a rage, blaming Moira MacTaggert, the idiot who had thought _metal_ bullets could possibly make a difference against _him_.

_(Had she been paying attention at all this whole time?)_

When he found out that Charles had wiped her memory of them all, he had almost flown into a rage once more. _She_ had shot the bullet that had paralyzed Charles, yet _she_ could forget about it, about _him_. Erik was not so lucky, let off the hook so easily. _He_ had to remember the pain his very best friend had been in, the broken, "_I can't feel my legs, Hank_," he had heard as Azazel teleported them all away, the sick feeling that had slithered down and settled for all eternity in the back of his mind, settled into the space where all his regrets resided. Oddly enough, Charles rested right beside memories of his Mama, the one person he had promised to love unconditionally for ever and always.

For now, though, there was no time for anger towards the naive young professor or the annoying little CIA agent. Right now, mutants were disappearing, and not only the ones on his side. He had been keeping track of the disappearances whenever he heard about them, but he had kept hitting brick walls of government bullshit and misdirection.

However, he now had a lead. It seems that every mutant that had gone missing had had a very public exposure of their gifts, and then a few hours later, they were visited by 'odd men in suits', he was told.

So here he was, standing in the middle of one of the busiest streets in New York City, surrounded by humming metal and oblivious humans. He let the feeling wash over him for a calm moment (_the calm before the storm_, he could almost hear Charles mutter, rolling his eyes playfully), before reaching out with his powers and seizing the vibrating metal and thrusting it out. He heard the screams, and smiled with far too many teeth as he yanked buildings apart and threw the sheets and rods through the street, hitting any cars, buildings, or people in his way. Growing bored quite quickly, Erik reached out and started constructing a small tower that he could set himself atop. It was situated right in the middle of the street, so he wouldn't be hard to find.

Once he was finished, he floated himself up to the top and sat, waiting for these odd men in suits to arrive and cart him off, hopefully to the same place they had taken Angel and Azazel earlier in the month. Raven was nearly beside herself, with both her boyfriend and her best friend missing, snatched right off of the street. She had practically demanded that Erik bring them back whole and safe right now, or he would be in extreme pain. Erik had never been one to argue with extremely pregnant hormonal women, because he wasn't quite that stupid, so he had done as she said, and here he sat. Woman eight months pregnant were just downright _terrifying_.

And, right on time, there stood two suit-clad men, looking up at his tower and then smirking up at him. "Hello, sir! Do you think you could come down here, so we could speak for a moment?" one of them shouted up politely, and Erik raised an eyebrow, wondering how many idiots they had caught with an introduction like that. But, he was pretending _to be_ one of those idiots, and he _wanted_ to be captured, so he nodded demurely and floated on down to stand in front of the two men, who looked suspiciously like government agents, and tried not to let the dog tags he could feel around their necks tighten so he could choke them for their impertinence.

"And who might you be, sir?" the first one asked, smiling slightly in a friendly manner. Erik instantly went on edge, knowing a mask when he saw one, but on the outside he seemed just the same. This man knew how to put on masks, but Erik's were _better_.

"I'm Erik," he said calmly, inclining his head slightly, then turned and looked about the street as if he couldn't care less that the two agents standing in front of him were stealthily reaching for something small and sharp and _metal_ in their pockets. He had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation. Honestly, if the other mutants were taken down by men like these, who were stupid enough to use something they _knew_ the mutant before them could harness against them, then the mutants deserved to have been kidnapped.

"Well, Erik, I'm afraid you'll need to come with us. There's someone who would like to meet you very much." The man had started out calm and friendly, but by the end he had grown ferocious and threatening, a smile full of teeth and malice as he shoved a tranqilizer right into Erik's neck. Erik met the man's eyes as he fell to the ground. He felt fear as well as a deep satisfaction that his plan had worked out so well. And then his face made contact with the concrete, and his last thought was ground out bitterly, _you could have at least __**caught me**_.


	2. Chapter 2

When Erik woke up, the first thing he could think was that the floor was really uncomfortable and his body was getting too old to be thrown down on it for so long. The cold had long since seeped into his bones, and he was shaking slightly from the chill. He opened his eyes slowly, not sure just what would greet him.

He was pleasantly surprised to see Angel staring back at him with wide, shocked eyes. "Erik! You're awake." She tugged on the chain that was attached to her wrist and crawled over to his side, trying to help him sit up.

"Are you alright, Angel? You've been missing for nearly two weeks, shortly after Azazel disappeared." At the mention of the red teleporter's name, Angel's eyes filled with tears. "What?" Erik asked darkly, touching Angel's shoulder as lightly as he could, even though he felt like letting his anger out destructively, though that wouldn't help them right now.

"Azazel. They took him away a couple of days ago. They never brought him back, and I asked what they did to him. They laughed. _They only laughed_," she said bitterly, biting down on her bottom lip to keep her tears at bay.

"So he's dead?" Erik asked, feeling numb. Oh, Raven was going to_ kill him_ when he got them home. Right after she got out of the depression he knew she would fall into after receiving this news. It was going to crush her, to know that the father of her baby, _the man she loved_, was gone forever. And there was no one she could kill to bring him back safe and sound.

"He's dead." And_ her voice_ sounded dead. Erik hated hearing people sound like that, he had heard far too much of that deadly resignation in his lifetime.

"We have to get out of here," Erik declared, closing his eyes to better feel the metal that surrounded them. However, he stopped in shock and fear when he realized he couldn't feel anything. There was no welcoming hum of iron, no pulsating copper, no vibrating silver or gold. He nearly panicked, turning to Angel for answers before he freaked out.

She flinched and drew away from Erik, wrapping her arms around her raised up knees. "They inject us with a serum, or something, every time they're done with us. It inhibits our mutations, to keep us under control," she said with disgust. She rubbed unhappily at her left shoulder, wincing at the feel, and Erik would have had to have been blind to have missed it.

Slowly, he reached out and tugged away the material covering her shoulders, and nearly growled at the sight that greeted him. There was a long, jagged, infected scar over her left shoulderblade. He also noticed that the tattoos that her wings became when not in use, were cut in half, while the one on her left side was missing entirely.

"Angel. What. Happened."

She had to take a deep breath before she could answer, her eyes screwing closed. "They experiment on us here, Erik. I've been cut open and poked at and disected and ripped apart and sewn back together, all for it to happen again the next day and for Trask to walk by going, 'Fascinating, fascinating'. It makes me sick. It's sick! And now we've dragged you into it," she cried, shaking uncontrollably. "Now you're going to be torn apart, as well. Again and again and again and again...," she moaned, crying into her hands as she shoved him away. "You shouldn't have come for us! You shouldn't have _come_!"

"That is quite enough, Angel!" he barked, holding her shoulders tightly. "We are going to make it through this. I have been through torture before, we will survive. Just give me some time to try and figure out _how_ we are going to get out of here."

As they stared into each other's eyes, a soft clapping echoed down to their shared cell. Erik was instantly on his feet, glaring at the bars seperating them from their captor. The older mutant was careful to place himself directly between the bars and Angel, so whoever it was that thought slow clapping while dragging their feet towards the cell was intimidating in anything other than terrible B-movies, could not clearly see his young friend.

Presently, a very short man entered the area before their cell, smiling widely up at Erik in something akin to fascination. The feeling that this man was definitely not to be underestimated was blaring in Erik's mind.

"And you are our new guest, _Erik Lehnsherr_," the man drawled, opening a folder and skimming through the documents as if he hadn't already read them front to back already. "There's not much information on you from the United States' intelligence. I _have_ found quite a bit of data from seized Nazi documents, though. Originally of German origin, your powers manifested at age eleven, and you were quickly snatched up by the doctors in the camp and... hmm... _persuaded_ to cooperate." Erik was seething in silence, but he knew the small man wanted to get a rise out of him. So he remained silent. "Ah, I see you know the rules to the game already. That's good to know. Less aclimatization time, that's helpful," he said cheerily, shutting the folder with a crisp _snap_!

"I think we'll start you off right away! I'll send someone down shortly." He paused then, giving Erik a long look up and down. "I must say, a metal manipulator! This is going to just be _fascinating_! Interesting, indeed."

Erik's eyes narrowed, and bit out with a snarl, "Is that all you can say about things? That they're _fascinating_? Fascinating. Try _terrifying_, little man." Erik's grimace slowly turned into a shark-like grin, with far too many teeth showing and only Angel was smart enough to huddle away from the tall man. Trask just got that exuberant smile on his face and tilted his head in a way that said, '_I can't wait to take this one apart_'. Trask just bobbed his head happily, and turned on his heel, heading back up to the floor he had come from earlier.

This all left Erik feeling bereft and exhausted, and nothing but a conversation had occurred. He hadn't been tortured in many years, he hoped his stamina still held up.

Angel reached out a shaking hand and tugged him down to sit beside her again. Erik wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close. "Don't worry. I'll think of something to get us out of here. I promise." And no matter what anyone said of him, he always kept his promises.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a short little chapter. Originally it was going to be the first part of the next chapter, but the second part got way too long, so I had to break it up. Look out for the next chapter some time this week.**

It seemed that torture had been upgraded since his youth, Erik thought wryly as he felt the incision being stiched back up after it had been left open for the doctors to root around in his abdominal cavity for a few hours. They had continuously pumped blood back into his veins, so he was in no way at risk of dying from blood loss, but they had also neglected to give him anesthetic before cutting open his stomach. Why they felt the need to look around in there was beyond him, though he didn't really get a say in any of it.

Once he was adequately recovered, they brought in the smarmy telepath with a wicked mean streak that they had convinced over to their side. Erik snarled at her wordlessly. In another time, in any other situation really, Erik thinks he might have actually liked this mutant. She was ruthless and beautiful, with short brown hair and frigid blue eyes. However, the only expression usually found in them was sadistic glee as she rooted around in his brain.

Erik's internal mantra of pleading _Charles, Charles, Charles, if you can hear me, please Charles, I'm sorry, come get us, please Charles, Charles, Charles_, was cut short as the woman came closer.

"Hello, Erik," she said slowly, a Cheshire grin spreading across her face as she reached out to touch his forehead, no other warning given as she ripped into his mind with ease, so unlike Charles' reluctant yet soothing presence any time he tried to enter Erik's mind.

_Gott, what he would give to feel Charles in his head again._

"Ooh, thinking of Charlie-boy again, are we? Naughty, naughty, Herr Lehnsherr. But that's not what I was looking for, was it. No, let's go a bit further back." She delved back into his memories, and Erik realized where she was headed right before she tossed his struggling conciousness to the side and delved into his memories of his time with Herr Schmidt, starting with the day he shot Erik's mother in front of him and Erik had destroyed the lab in his grief.

She pulled away in success, a beaming smile stretched across her attractive face. Erik could feel nothing but disgust and the loss the memories of his mother always drudged up. He spit at the telepath, glaring unrepentantly as the woman just wiped the spit off of her face and skipped toward the door.

"I've found what I was looking for, little Erik. I don't think they'll be needing my expertise any longer, not for you, anyhow." Erik was confused, but he watched her leave with a scowl and a feeling of growing dread. Just what had she found that would be helpful _here_?


	4. Chapter 4

It had been weeks, and Raven was starting to get worried. Surely Erik would have been able to get in and out of whatever cell these people had put him in by now. She had never seen anything able to hold Erik for long. That it had been weeks and he still hadn't contacted her was worrisome enough in itself.

As she paced her room, she rested a hand on her swollen belly. The baby had been unusually active tonight, kicking and figeting and turning over nonstop. It was as if the baby knew how stressed and frightened she was, and was absobing it itself.

God, but she hoped the baby wasn't an empath; thankfully, he was more likely to be a teleporter like Azazel or a shapeshifter like herself. Though she had only known Azazel for a few months, the older mutant had taking a great liking to her. One thing had led to another, and here she was, eight months pregnant with their child. It had been a terrible blow when she had realized the father of her baby as well as her best friend had been stolen away from her.

Hence, their current prediciment.

She continued to pace as she tried to think through her options. With as large as she was right now, there was no way she would be able to go in and rescue Erik herself. She wasn't even sure where he was. She could get the other remaining members of the Brotherhood to aid her, but they still had no idea where to start looking. With a heavy dread settling in her stomach, she realized she had no choice but to go to Charles for help.

Staring out the window, she frowned at her reflection. She was blue skinned, scaley, red haired, and yellow eyed. With a flick of will, her skin turned pale, her eyes went blue, and her hair lengthened and curled in blonde tendrils. Her human mask stared back at her in the window, and she sighed, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She would do this, go to Charles for help, because she had to. She had to find Azazel, and Angel, and Erik. There was no choice.

She was standing outside of the house in Westchester a few hours later. For a long moment, all she could do was stare as memory after memory assulted her. She saw a younger version of herself, in all her blue and red glory, chasing after a young Charles as they played tag in the front yard. She saw them both as teenagers, relaxing on the patio, Charles a beer in his hand and Raven a joint in hers. Though Charles was eyeing her unhappily, he hadn't said anything. They weren't all happy memories, though; she also saw Charles run out of the front door, eyes blown wide in panic as their step-brother Cain tore out of the house after him, a hateful, burning look on his face. It made shivers run down her spine, until she reminded herself that the Markos were never going to bother either of them again.

With one final fortifying breath, she pushed her memories aside and made her way up to the door. It felt odd knocking, but she knew she couldn't just walk in like nothing had changed.

It took a few minutes for someone to answer, but she could hear someone stumbling around behind the door. Finally, the door slid open and Hank was stood there, in all his geeky wonder, staring at her with huge eyes in both shock and surprise.

"Raven!" he stuttered, shoving his glasses back up his nose. Raven smiled back at him, a bit confused as to why he wasn't blue and furry like the last time she had seen him.

"Hank," she answered, smiling up at him sweetly as she reached out and tugged him in to a hug, that was slightly hindered by her enormous belly.

As she pulled back, she couldn't help but ask, "How are you like this? The last time I saw you...," she trailed off, her face set in confusion.

Hank seemed to blush right down to his roots as he stumbled over his words. "Well, um. After Cuba, I started working on a serum that would help me keep my mutation under control, so I could blend in with everyone else better. After a while, I enhanced it a bit so it would help Charles, too."

Raven reeled back as if she had been slapped. "What exactly does that mean?" she asked icily, and suddenly Hank was taking big steps back. She followed him further into the house, slamming the door behind her as she stormed forward. Charles was trying to hide his mutation, now? What happened to 'Mutant and Proud'?

Hank was just now recalling how scary Raven got when she was angry, and was kicking himself that her ire was now thrown onto him. "Um, well, you see. After we got back from the hospital, he wasn't in the greatest state of mind. He was depressed, and exhausted, and in terrible pain. Not just physical, though," he stated, his voice taking on a hard edge. "He couldn't control his power any longer, and he begged me to help him. So I did," he ground out firmly, glaring her down. What right did she have to be angry about this, when she hadn't even been here to help when Charles had needed her the most.

"Where is he now? I need to talk to him, it's important." She saw Hank's eyes flash yellow and quickly covered her stomach with her hands, her mouth tightening as she stared back at her old friend.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Hank muttered, but his gaze trailed up the stairs, and Raven knew exactly where her brother would be. Without a backward glance for Hank, Raven stomped up the stairs and straight to her brother's room. She banged her fist against the door and waited in indignant fury for the man to answer her.

It was silent on the other end, and Raven continued banging until she heard an annoyed grumble from the other side. "Bugger off, Hank!" he shouted, and then it went silent again. She gave up on knocking and just shoved the door open, not surprised to find it unlocked. She found Charles sprawled on his bed, dressed in a stained white shirt and pajama pants, along with the grungy brown dressing gown he had had since he was eighteen.

The room was in disarray; the light filtering in seemed to be coming in through a dusty filter; Charles didn't even look like himself. His hair alone had her questioning just who this man was in her brother's bed.

"I told you it wasn't a very good idea," Hank grumbled from behind her. With pursed lips, Raven stepped into the room and slammed the door in Hank's unhelpful face.

"Hank, stop slamming the bloody doors," Charles complained.

Raven just stood there, leaning against the door, until she got her voice back. "Charles." That was it. No feeling behind it; no hope or happiness or regret or anger. It just was.

The man's head perked up at her voice, confusion creasing his brow as he shoved his long hair out of his face to turn and look at her. "Raven?" he asked, the same shock and amazement that had been on Hank's face mirrored on his own.

She didn't smile, her eyes didn't warm, she didn't relax under his gaze. She stalked forward and hit him as hard as she could on his leg. He jerked in shock and pulled his legs closer to his body.

"What am I thinking right now, Charles?" she demanded, praying that Hank hadn't done what she thought he had. What if this stupid serum was permanent? Then how was she supposed to find everyone? She was getting desperate, and that desperation was making her erratic.

"Raven, I promised I wouldn't read your mind," Charles reminded her, though the way he said it told her it was just a diversion. He didn't want to asnwer the question, because he didn't know the answer.

Suddenly she wasn't at the side of the bed any longer, but right up in Charles' face. "Don't lie to me. What have you done, Charles? What have you _done_?!"

His face shuddered into something dark and angry, and to her shock, he shoved her away and stood on his own two feet. They were nearly the same height, but right at that moment he seemed to tower over her.

"What have _I_ done? _Me_? I had just been _shot_, I was _bleeding_, I lost my _legs_. And what do you and Erik do when I needed you with me? You left me there, with no way off the fucking beach, while I was injured! Then, I was stuck in hospital for months while they tried to fix my spine. And did either of you ever think to come check on me? No! You were too busy being assholes together. Good riddance, I say!" he spat out, shoving her away from him as he stumbled toward the desk against the wall. He splashed whiskey into a semi-clean glass and proceeded to down the entire thing in one quick swallow.

"No, you are not going to blame this all on me," she growled, reaching out and twisting him around to face her. How far he had fallen in such a short amount of time, she mused. He was falling prey to alcohol just like their mother, falling back on poor intimidation and self-pity. "Yes, we left you on that beach, but you _told_ me to leave. I knew you would be fine."

Charles scoffed so hard Raven thought he might be choking. "Fine. You call this _fine_? I am barely holding on, and I am dependent on a drug that I don't think will last me for much longer. Without it, I will lose my legs and, most likely, my mind. But no, you knew I'd be _fine_," he said with an ugly sneer on his face.

Raven stomped to the window in rage, her hands covering her face. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't come here to argue with Charles, she had come to ask for his help. And now she realized that he couldn't help her even if he wanted to. He was broken, now.

She let out an agonized scream into her hands and stared down at the floor, no idea what to do now. She didn't realize that she was crying until she felt a hand on her shoulder, tugging her towards a chest she had lost herself in time after time. It was comfortable and familiar and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and holding onto her brother for dear life.

"Raven, I don't want to argue with you. We have both done stupid things in our lives, but you are still my baby sister, and you will always be my baby sister. Do you agree?" he asked in a near-whisper, almost afraid of the answer.

Sniffling, Raven smiled into his shoulder as she squeezed him. "Of course I agree. You're my brother, no matter what." She pulled away and wiped away her tears, and Charles smiled calmly down at her, all traces of anger and resentment gone.

"Now, let me get a look at you. I haven't seen you in nearly a year, you know," he said with a grin, holding her shoulders as he pulled away and looked her up and down, his eyes widening when they landed on her stomach. "Well, now. That's new."

With a watery smile, she nodded and wrapped a protective arm around her stomach. "It's due next month," she said with pride shining in her eyes.

Charles was glad that his sister was happy, and expanding their little family. He eyed her shrewdly after a long moment and then reached out and slapped the back of her head. She looked up at him in shock, reaching to touch her head where he had slapped her.

"What was that for?" she asked, scandalized. He had been happy not two seconds earlier.

"What the hell were you thinking, Raven? You're twenty-four years old. Honestly, I leave you alone for a year and this is what happens? Not that I'm not overjoyed for the little tyke to get here, but Raven!" Now it was his turn to sound scandalized.

Raven pouted and fell down into the closest seat. Her situation was starting to creep back up on her far too quickly for comfort. To her horror, she found her eyes prickling with hot tears that she couldn't hold back.

"Raven? What's wrong?" Charles asked, kneeling down to look her in the eye. "Why are you really here? What has happened?"

The wail that escaped past her lips broke Charles' heart, because it was full of agony, pain, and fear. "A-Azazel, and Angel, and Erik," she whispered.

"What? What about them?"

"Someone took them. First Azazel, and then Angel disappeared, too. I told Erik to go bring them home. And then he disappeared, too. It's been weeks, and he hasn't contacted me yet. Something's wrong," she explained, her gaze intense and powerful. Charles didn't doubt her for a moment. Whenever she got _feelings_ like this as a child, she was usually right.

"I'm so sorry, Raven. But there's nothing I can do to help. My powers, they've become too unwieldy. I can't drown out the voices anymore, and the pain from my legs is far too terrible. I... I _can't_, Raven," he whimpered, hiding his face in her shoulder, much like she had done to him earlier.

She let him draw some comfort from her for a moment, and then whispered, "Are you sure, Charles? Please. I'm begging you. I need to get them back. I need them here. And you won't be alone, this time. You won't be alone with the voices, Charles; I'll be here with you. Please," she begged, and Charles' heart clenched painfully in his chest because Raven never, ever _begged_.

With a shaky breath, he stared back at his sister, the girl he had protected and loved and watched grow up before his very eyes. He could not deny her this; not when he knew he could help her. He nodded, then. He would do this, no matter how painful it would be.

"Of course, sister dear. I cannot deny you a thing, you know that." He kissed her forehead, and then pulled back and stared at the closet door for a heavy, tense moment, before he nodded towards it with an almost palpable fear. "Could you get my chair, then? I'll be needing it once the serum wears off."

Raven followed his gaze, and he watched as her face turned even paler than usual. But she did as he asked, and pushed the dusty wheelchair out of the dark closet and closer to his seat on the bed.

Raven kneeled at his feet and leaned her head against his knee. "I'm so sorry, Charles." She raised watery eyes up to his and said in such a small voice, he could hardly hear her, "Thank you, so much, Charlie."

He anchored himself in the feel of her hair and closed his eyes, leaning into her warmth and familiarity. God, but he had missed her. They stayed in that position until the pain started creeping up his legs, escalating until it was nearly unbearable, and then it all dulled down to a constant background roar as the voices started coming back bit by bit. He could hear Hank muttering to himself downstairs, wondering what they were still doing in his room. He could hear Raven's constant mantra of _find them, save them, keep them_. Oddly enough, he could also hear Raven's baby's thoughts, that were more emotions, colors, and feelings than actual thoughts.

"Alright, Raven," Charles grinned shakily, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. "Let's go do this."


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N: ****I hope you people enjoy this, it took me all night to write! Also, any German I used in this chapter may not be translated correctly, because I used google translate and we all know how reliable that is. So, sorry if it's incorrect! Also, I am extremely proud of the first part of this chapter. Oh, and warnings for off-screen torture that's a bit graphic.**

Angel was frightened, and she had every right to be. She had watched the doctors rip Azazel away from her day after day, until one day, he had not come back. She knew her time was swiftly coming to a close in this facility. She still held out hope, though. Since Erik had been captured as well, that meant that at least Raven knew to start looking for them. She would probably take a few days to get backup together, but she would come for them.

Angel was frightened, but she was trying to be strong. She kept telling herself, just a few more days and the calvary would come for them. Mabye Raven would bring the Professor, the man she hadn't seen in almost a year. The man who had offered her a home, a family, a team to call her own, and she had turned it down because she had been too frightened of the unknown. A family that loved her? A place she could call home? No, she had only known fear and humiliation to stem from her mutation. She could not see how Charles Xavier could keep such blissful hope in the human race, when she had seen the worst of the worst.

Erik was here with her now, though. He was trying to be brave enough for both of them, but she knew beneath the veneer of strength and hope he provided for her, he was just as frightened as her. He tried to keep her spirits up, keep her hoping for a happily ever after, and she truly appreciated it. Though Magneto was brilliant at giving anti-human, thought-provoking speeches to the masses, Erik Lehnsherr was terrible putting his thoughts and feelings into words. He couldn't comfort successfully, even when he tried exponentially hard. She was simply in too much _pain_ to hear him half the time. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and she screamed in agony. The doctors had already taken one of her wings (_for research purposes, you understand dear, don't you?_) and the other was torn and frayed. Even when it was absorbed into her own body, it was nothing but a steady, fiery throb.

A thick sweater she had conned out of one of the more sympathetic guards was all that guarded her against the cold of the concrete cell surrounding her. She swore that they blasted the cells with arctic air, just to make them that much more uncomfortable. The thing was, though, that she wasn't totally sure that the cold was just from sitting day after day on a cold, concrete floor. It had been a creeping sensation from one day to the next, but she knew when the world started getting colder and colder that she wouldn't be much longer for this world. Her fight was nearly depleted, though she still spit fire at the guards that manhandled her so roughly day after day.

When they came for her once again, early in the morning, she felt something within her snap and die, and she knew she wouldn't be returning to the cell that night. If the anticipatory looks of predatory glee on half of the guards' faces was anything to go by, she knew the doctors had something horrific planned. Erik seemed to realize it too, because he positioned himself between her and the guards, one final resistance to show his support, his hope. For someone who held so little faith in people, he seemed to have an unlimited amount in Charles and Raven.

Erik scrabbled for Angel's hand, holding her close, using his body as a shield. He was sluggish and bleary-eyed, but his defiance was something that could never be dampened. "You won't hurt her again. Not today," he demanded, holding her tight as they guards stepped closer.

"Oh, I don't know. Not quite sure what the docs have planned for your little girlfriend today. But let's just say one thing; I bet your girl's a screamer, ain't she?" The guard let off a full-throated laugh at that, and Erik decided he would be the first to die by his hand once he figured out how to get out of there.

"There's no need to be crude, idiot," another guard grumbled, stepping forward. He stared between the two mutants huddled on the floor and sighed. Erik studied him closely, though his brain functioned far slower than he was used to. The man was reluctant to do as he had been ordered, but he was still going to do it. He just wasn't going to be an ass about it.

It was men like that that really set fire to Erik's blood. The men who knew what they were doing was wrong, but did it anyway. The men who simply _followed orders_.

"Sorry about this, buddy," he said, and then there was the butt of a rifle slamming into his head. He fell back against the floor, his eyes unfocused and bleary as he tried to move. They couldn't take Angel away, not after that omnious conversation.

The door had been slammed in his face long before he finally pulled himself back up. Angel stood on the other side of the metal bars, planted in the center of the gaggle of guards. Their eyes met, and Erik felt tears prick at his eyes.

_I'm so sorry_, he screamed in his mind. He knew that she was no telepath, but she didn't have to have powers to see the grief and pain leaking from the man's grey eyes. Angel gave him a shaky smile, standing tall and proud for one last time. If she was going to die today, she would do it with her head held high. They would not take that from her.

When she disappeared from sight, Erik stared around at the empty cell. The sweater she been snuggled beneath moments before now lay in a wadded pile in the corner. Dragging himself towards it, he curled up and wrapped his hands up in the soft wool, breathing in her scent, committing it to memory. It hurt everytime they stole someone away from him. First his Mama and Papa, then Charles, the children; now Angel, too. She had been in his care, under his protection, and a fat lot of good that had done her. Erik felt the cracks in his mind forming, splintering just so under the immense strain, and realized that he getting dangerously close to his breaking point.

And then they came for him, too, because of course they did. They couldn't just take away his friend and rub his face in the fact, but they would destroy him a bit more, as well. He was dragged down the hall, barely conscious after that emotional turmoil. He was just so tired, down to the _bone_. It didn't help that they kept him on a steady stream of sedatives that were doing their damnedest to keep his brain foggy and his limbs heavy.

Strangely enough, the doctors simply restrained him to the table and then left him there. Erik found that confusing until he heard something coming from the next room over. It was a sort of soft buzzing, but he couldn't make out just what it was. As he strained his ears to make out specific sounds, Angel's glass-shattering scream came through loud and clear. Erik flinched, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall. He tugged on the restraints, flailing and pulling, but he was stuck. This was to be their new torture; they would hurt Angel, and make him listen to it. Every scream, every sob, every plea would pass by his ears and he couldn't even ignore it.

She sobbed out when the buzzing stopped, and then something that sounded frighteningly like a saw buzzed to life, and she was screaming again. Erik heard what he assumed was bone breaking, and she screamed again. It sounded more watery this time, and Erik closed his eyes. He had heard enough men die with liquid in their lungs, whether it was water or blood, the end result was usually the same. The laughter of a small group of men echoed through the wall and Erik's hands tightened into fists. If only he could fight back, could save her. Where the hell was _Raven_?

Picturing just what he would do to these doctors, these soldiers, just about anyone in the building calmed him slightly in the silence. When Angel started yelling, screaming her throat raw, Erik felt tears slid from his closed eyelids. And then, in the middle of a gut-wretching scream, she was cut off. There was silence, and then there was _silence_. Erik knew the difference between the quiet that came while you were trying to catch you breath, trying to keep yourself alive, and the silence that came when there was nothing left.

Angel was gone.

His heart stopped in his chest. His breath stilled in his lungs. His blood froze in his veins. There was nothing, now. No one to remain strong for, no one to lie to. _Alles ist nicht gut_, not anymore.

Trask's pet telepath chose that moment to step forward, a grim smile on her face.

"You're next, dearie," she promised, stroking his hair. He felt his stomach protest, and if there had been anything in there, he knew he would have thrown it up. A doctor stepped forward, brandishing the longest needle he had ever seen before. His shirt was hiked up and the needle uncerimoniously jammed into his hip, right down to the bone. Erik was too weak to hold back his scream of agony, the fire pulsing through his body the last thing he registered before he fell in the black pit of unconciousness.

"You're staying here with me, Raven. If it was just you going in there, I know you could take care of yourself. But you have to think of the child. What if you get hurt? What if _it_ gets hurt?" Charles pleaded with his sister. They sat parked outside of the building that Charles had tracked Erik and Angel to, after they had gotten Cerebro up and running once more.

Raven was being incredibly stubborn, though.

"I have to go in, Charles. I'll be fine. I have to find them. Bring them home." The determination in her eyes did not ease Charles' fears. Her face softened then, and she reached out for him. "You'll keep us safe, you always do. Just don't let anyone see us, and we'll be fine. I promise."

Charles wasn't happy about it, but he knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of going with the boys. Hank had, of course, offered his services. The surprise had been Alex showing up on their doorstep, saying he had heard through the grapevine that they might need some firepower.

Charles hadn't asked how he had heard, but he could only guess. He had signed on to help after he had heard just what was happening. "Angel was my friend, too. And I can't just let her and Erik get cut up into little pieces." He had taken one took at a green-looking Raven, and quickly tacked on, "And that Azazel-guy, he seemed like an okay sort of guy. Can't forget him." Raven had smiled at that, and tugged Alex in to a bone crushing hug.

"Are we ready, then?" Alex asked, leaning over the seat to stare at them. The van was small; he had heard every word. Though he didn't say it out loud, he met Charles' eyes and thought, _We'll take care of her. Don't worry, no one's dying on our watch._ Though it was still frightening, Charles smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

As they readied themselves to infiltrate the building, Charles readied his mind. Though his telepathy was a bit rusty, he was fairly confident he would perform admirably.

Alex opened his door, and they trooped out.

It was time.

His blood felt like it was on fire. His body felt like it had been on the losing side of a fight with a bulldozer. And his brain was _pounding_ in his skull. He shifted his weight just slightly and felt like all of his bones had been broken overnight. The familiar blue sweater Angel had left behind caught his attention, and he snatched it up, shoving his face into the fabric. Though he would never admit it, a few tears leaked from his eyes and soaked into the sweater. He had never felt this much _agony_ before, and he had an incredibly high pain tolerance.

Something was wrong. He felt wrong. He couldn't place his finger on just what was so different, but the fact that it had taken him far too long to crawl from one side of the cell to the other to retrieve the sweater, even if he _was_ injured, was bouncing about his head. If he could just _think clearly_, he might be able to piece the clues together.

And then Trask was standing at his cell door.

"Ah, hello little Erik." Erik bristled at the words. That had been Shaw's favorite greeting, and this already felt like a reenactment of his first meeting with the former Nazi. "We're going to do some tests today. No surgery for you today, we'll let you recover somewhat. For now, we're going to focus on your _gifts_."

Erik's eyes widened at that. Blindly, he reached out with his senses and nearly collapsed in relief when he could _feel_ the metal around him once more. After the intitial joy, Erik's eyes narrowed and he glared up at Trask from the floor, reaching his hand out to impale the little man that had killed his friends.

But nothing happened.

The metal had gone just as fast as it had appeared.

"_Was_...?" he mumbled, and then realized that he wasn't speaking English, but German. He stumbled over himself for a moment, his eyes wide in panic. What had these idiots done to him now?

"Now, Erik. We're going to try a little exercise." Trask removed a coin from his coat pocket and set it on the floor, and Erik felt like he might burst into tears at any moment. They couldn't be doing this. The telepath could not have thought that recreating traumatic events in his life would have an impact on him. Right?

"I'm going to count to three, and you're going to move the coin. Or," and then he turned toward the door, where Raven was shoved inside, her face panicked and bloody as she wrapped her arms protectively around her belly. The telepath stood behind her, a wicked smile on her ace as she placed a knife to the woman's throat.

"One," Trask counted off, and Erik didn't even think. He turned back to the coin on the floor and shoved back everything that he felt, trying to find that place that Charles had carved out of him. The place between rage and serenitity, he ha said, but all Erik could feel was panic and fear with the knowledge that if he failed, someone he loved was going to be murdered before his eyes. _Again_.

Refusing to see Raven take the place of his mother, he screamed in agony as he tried to feel the metal, make it listen to his commands. They had apparently taken him off of the suppressor, but for some reason he couldn't grasp the metal with his mind.

"Two," he drawled out, turning towards Raven, who let out a muffled whimper when the knife dug deeper. Erik was trying, he really was, and he found himself calling out to her, just like he had called out to his mother all those years ago.

"She is not going to tell you 'all is well', little boy. She cannot speak as it is. She _will_ be dead in moments if you do not do as you are told, though." The telepath was practically writhing with glee, drinking in his panicked features as he struggled.

And oh, he tried. It felt just like it had all those years ago in Shaw's office. Worse, maybe, because he knew he could do what was being asked of him quite easily, yet it wasn't working for some reason.

"Three," Trask said sadly, and he turned to the telepath, who nodded in joy and then turned Raven to face her.

"Raven!" Erik shouted, watching in horror as the telepath wasted no time in shoving the knife through Raven's chest. The blue scaled mutant clutched at her chest, trying to pry the knife from her heart, but was grossly unsuccessful. She fell to her knees, and then she was face down on the ground. Erik felt everything stop as he watched her fall, and then his old friends Agony and Rage stepped in and everything metal in the room began to vibrate violently. Trask was beaming at him, the telepath was staring blankly, and Erik was practically frothing at the mouth.

"Nein!" he shouted, throwing his fists to the floor, collapsing in his misery. "Nein, nein nein!" he screeched, tears clouding his vision as he choked on the word. His powers reacted and the metal flew through the air, slammed on the floor, and shattered lights in the ceiling, echoing his pain.

"Very good!" Trask praised, echoing Shaw once more. "I don't need to go on now, do I?" he asked softly, staring down at the wreck that was Erik Lehnsherr. He had crawled towards the edge of his cell, reaching through the bars for Raven, though he could quite reach her.

"You should put him out of his misery," Trask said weakly, waving his hand towards the distraught prisoner. The telepath smiled silkily and raised a hand. Erik slumped forward, his eyes glued to Raven. As his lids slowly fell closed, he saw her body shimmer and fade away, and then he was once again unconcious.

The facility was easy enough to sneak in to. Alex's motto of act like you belong, and no one will ask you questions was proving true. Though, he supposed having a telepath that instantly made everyone forget they had even seen them was helpful, as well.

Alex had taken the lead, with Raven safely stuck between him and Hank. They had discussed this before entering; obviously, the mad scientists wouldn't stick their super secret prisoners on the main floor, where just anyone could walk in on them, so they would have to sneak down to the lower levels.

Once they had found the stairs, they practically flew down them. When they reached the door to the lowest floor, Alex heard a conversation from the other side.

"Did you see what they did to the little one, though? I thought he was going to start crying when they tricked him into thinking they had killed his little blue skinned buddy."

That caught Alex's attention and he turned toward the man that had spoken. "Poor bastard," another man muttered to the first. The two men passed by the door, and Alex slipped through, heading the way the men had come from.

When they found a room with bars on the door, he assumed that they had found the room with the prisoners. Hank disabled the key pad and then Alex shoved the door open slowly, checking for guards. Finding none, the moved on, checking the cells.

"Erik! Angel! Azazel!" Alex hissed, keeping his voice low just in case. They spread out to check each cell, but it seemed that there was only one that was inhabited. A little boy that was about six years old sprawled out on the floor, dried tear tracks staining his little face. Though it wasn't anyone they had come to rescue, they couldn't just leave a little kid there to be tortured.

Hank fiddled with the lock on the door, and then it was swinging open. Raven stared inside the cell silently while Alex reached in and tried to shake the boy awake. When he glanced back, he saw her eyes were hard and unhappy, though if it was because no one she wanted had been recovered or if the boy had survived where the others hadn't, he wasn't sure. The boy finally blinked open bleary eyes and looked up at Alex. There was a strange flicker of recognition in his grey eyes, though Alex was sure he had never seen the tiny, dark haired boy before.

"Verwustung!" he shouted, before his face screwed up in concentration and he stuttered, "Ha-Havok!" Though Alex was extremely confused, the boy reached out and hugged him as tightly as he could. Deciding to go with the flow, Alex tugged the boy up to his hip and followed Hank to the other cells. When they passed Raven in the doorway, the little boy burst into tears.

"Rabe! Rabe, du warst tot!" he shrieked, looking shocked and excited all at once. His watery smile was adorable, and Raven had to give him a small smile in return, though she had no idea what he had just said.

"Hey, listen kid. Are there any other prisoners? Have you seen a tall man, a dark haired girl, or a red guy?" If they weren't here, he didn't know where else to look.

The boy's face scrunched up, and then he shook his head. "No one but me," he said slowly, enunciating each word like he was having a hard time getting them out. "Run, now. Run! Du rennst, _du rennst_!" he commanded. He had grown panicked in seconds, and Alex wasn't sure why until he lifted his eyes and came face to face with the scariest woman he had ever seen. She was beautiful, but in an _I'm going to stab you thirty-nine times in the neck with a pencil, and laugh while I do it_ sort of way.

"Du rennst!" the boy demanded once again, and Alex had to agree. Running seemed the best course of action. Their little group took off down the hall, the woman's deep laugh echoing down after them.

"You can run, and you can hide, little Lehnsherr, but I will find you. _I will always find you_," she promised, and Alex's eyes widened. Little Lehnsherr? What the hell was she spouting off back there?

The little boy cradled against his chest was shaking, tiny sobs breaking through as he stuffed his head beneath Alex's chin and gripped his shirt with white knuckles.

"Don't worry, kid. We'll get you out of here." Alex scrounged up one of the basic lines of German he could remember, and said softly, "Alles ist gut, alles ist gut." His calm words seemed to have the _opposite_ effect on the little boy, as he screamed out and flinched so hard in Alex's arms that he nearly dropped him.

Finally, they were through the doors. The car Charles was waiting in was parked around the corner and they made a bee-line for it, piling in in a mess of limbs and shouts. Hank jumped in to the driver's seat, flooring the car and squealing away from the curb, accelerating so he could barrel away from the building as fast as humanly possible. Once they were a safe distance away, he slowed down and allowed himself to breath.

"So?" Charles asked, looking between his sister and his former pupil. All he had seen of the mystery child in Alex's lap was a mess of dark hair.

"This kid is the only prisoner we found. He said he was the only one left. He pretty much only speaks German though, so I didn't get a lot of information out of him," Alex explained, rubbing a large hand up and down the child's back, trying to calm him down.

When the child shifted at the sound of his voice, Charles' mind stuttered to a halt. Though he had never seen the child in real life, he had seen enough memories containing him that he knew exactly who he was.

"Erik?" he croaked out, staring at the boy in confusion. "What have they done to you?"

All eyes turned to Charles, and then realization clouded their faces. Alex leaned the child back to get a better look at his face and zeroed in on his eyes. That recognition he had seen now made more sense.

"Erik?" Charles asked again, and the boy raised his bloodshot eyes to meet Charles' gaze. "What happened?"

The boy seemed to debate with himself for a long moment before he reached up and tapped his own temple, his eyes wide and inviting. Though Charles was shocked by the invitation, he nodded and reached out with his own mind to meld with Erik's.

Once he had the whole story, Charles held his arms out to Erik, and the boy tentatively transferred himself from Alex's grip to Charles' offered embrace.

"Charles? What is going on?" Raven's plea was heartbreaking. If they had been able to do that to Erik, then what had they done to her other friends?

"I'm sorry, Raven," Charles began, running a soothing hand through Erik's hair even as the child sobbed into his shoulder. "Azazel was killed shortly after he was captured. Angel was killed a few days ago, right before they did this to Erik. He has his adult memories and thoughts, but he is exhausted, both mentally and physically. I think after a decent meal and a great deal of rest, he'll be more himself. Still tiny, but himself."

The others watched as Raven slumped in her seat, her yellow eyes glistening with tears. Her hand went to her mouth, trying to keep herself from being sick everywhere. What was she going to do now? All her friends were dead, the _father of her baby_ was dead. Where would she go now?

"Raven," Charles beckoned softly, his hand wrapping around her wrist in a calming gesture. "You know you still have a home with me. I take care of you, _both_ of you. You are always welcome back home, no matter what."

Her shuddering breath wracked itself from her chest, and she felt her heart rate slow. _Is this shock?_ she wondered as she felt herself growing colder and colder. The thought of continuing on without Azazel at her side sent her mind into tremors. She couldn't get past that fact. Though they had only known each other for less than a year, they had been some of the best months of her life.

"I'll keep you safe, sister. I promise you that." Charles rubbed her back, held her hand, promised her one thing after another until she felt herself calming slightly. She still couldn't see through her tears, or breath comfortably through the lump in her throat, but at least she knew she still had her family by her side.

"Alles ist gut, alles ist gut," they heard Erik mumble sleepily from his seat on Charles' lap. He looked half coherent, but the fuzzy smile he sent her way told her that he wasn't in the present at all. "Mama sagte, alles ist gut. Alles ist gut."

Somehow, that felt like a terrible lie.


	6. Chapter 6

Silence reigned in the van the rest of the way back to Westchester. Erik remained silent and glossy-eyed, Raven stared at the back of Hank's seat and refused to speak another word, Alex stared out the window with a pensive look on his face, Charles was still mulling over everything Erik had shown him, and Hank was trying to ignore everyone else in favor of keeping his focus on the road.

As they pulled up the drive to the mansion, Alex couldn't keep his mouth shut one more moment. "So, we have a baby now," he mumbled to Hank, staring down at the vacant-eyed boy curled up in Charles' lap. He looked so different from the imposing, Nazi-hunting adult Alex had met years before.

"He's not a baby," Hank replied, helping Charles down into his wheelchair while trying not to jostle Erik from his grip. "More like six or seven years old."

Alex took over pushing the Professor into the mansion, taking them into the house while the other two trailed behind. Raven had at least gotten out of the car of her own volition, but she looked miserable about it. She hadn't spoken since her conversation with Charles, and it seemed that the conversation hadn't eased any of her fear or sadness. Hank was silent too, watching Erik sit bonelessly in Charles' lap, wondering just how he was going to be expected to remedy this situation.

Once they reached the entryway, Raven peeled off from the rest of the group, continuing up the stairs to her old bedroom and closing the door behind her. Charles sighed, but there wasn't much he could do to help her at the moment. He passed Erik off to Hank and turned his attention on to Alex.

"Do you happen to remember which room Erik used when we were here before Cuba?" At Alex's nod, Charles requested, "Could you please make it up for him again? Perhaps familiar surroundings will help him regain himself quicker."

Alex agreed easily and slipped upstairs. Hank decided to take Erik down to his lab to give him a physical, frightened that the scientists might have caused him worse damage than what was visible on the surface.

However, the moment they entered the room and Erik caught a whiff of the sterile smell, Erik's eyes widened and he started flailing in Hank's grip. "Nein, nein, nein!" he pleaded, hysterical tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to scratch his way out of the bigger mutant's hold.

"Erik! Erik Lehnsherr, _stop it_." He tried shushing the boy, bouncing him, walking around the room with him, everything he could think of. The boy wouldn't stop his frightened struggle until Hank finally brought them both out of the too-white room.

Erik's ragged breath was full of relief as he melted against Hank's shoulder in exhaustion. Hank sighed, not quite sure what to do now.

"Erik, you know I wouldn't hurt you. You know who I am, you know I wouldn't do anything like that," Hank reminded, touching his small back lightly to get his attention. Erik's eyes rose to meet Hank's own, but they were still unfocused, a ring of fear and apprehension shining through the fog of vacancy.

"Hey, Beast. His room's ready, if you want to lay him down for a nap or something," Alex announced, eyeing the little metal bender dubiously. Erik was burrowed into Hank's shoulder, eyes far too wide for his thin face, staring at nothing.

Hank nodded his thanks and started mounting the stairs, stopping outside of Erik's old room. "Do you remember this place?" he asked calmly, jostling Erik a bit in his arms just to get a response.

Peeking around his shoulder, Erik stared at the door for a long moment before nodding with a quick jerk of the head, and then burying his face back into Hank's neck.

"Good. That's good. I'm going to have you take a little nap, just for a bit, and then we'll see if that helps any. Okay?" Erik nodded, but his grip on Hank's shirt tightened. When Hank tried to lay him down on the bed, Erik whined and refused to let go. "Come now, Erik. You have to let me go so you can go to sleep." When prying the tiny hands off didn't work, Hank sighed and lay down on the bed himself. Erik cuddled into Hank's side and latched onto his arm with a content sigh, letting his weary eyes slide closed as he faded from consciousness.

Erik woke in a panting, frightened mess atop the large, cushioned bed. His body was covered in sweat and his heart was racing. He rubbed a hand across his face, trying to wake himself up from the nightmare. When he realized where he was and how he had acted in front of Hank, he felt his face heat in shame and embarassment. He was no child to be clinging and throwing tantrums like he had! What was wrong with him? His recollection of the past few hours felt like a dream coated in fog; he couldn't remember what he had been thinking or feeling or why he had acted the way he had, as if he had been on auto pilot the whole morning.

As he glanced over at Hank, he felt a terrible realization hit him. He had done so much to these people. He had left them stranded on a beach by themselves, with Charles grieviously wounded. He had betrayed them, and now he was small and young and vulnerable and in their clutches. What would they do to enact their revenge? How far would they go to make him suffer for his sins?

Shaking overtook his body, fear racing through his veins as he started looking for an escape. He may be young now, but he still had the instincts that had been pounded into him for years: he knew exactly how to hide and keep himself breathing long enough to get somewhere safe. His eyes darted around the room, recognizing it from his time with the team before Cuba. The only escapes were the large window (but they were on the second floor) and the door they had entered through (but that would mean sneaking through the whole house undetected, and he was still exhausted).

Somewhere deep inside, he knew he was being ridiculous. These people were _good people_, unlike him. They wouldn't harm him, he knew, even though he also knew he would deserve whatever they dished out to him.

Before he had gotten much further than the edge of the bed, Erik saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Hank was stirring. He would be awake in a few minutes, so Erik was on a strict time limit. If he could just get to the door, then he wouldn't be trapped in the room when Hank woke. Just as he turned his back on the scientist to race to the door, he heard Hank snort in his sleep, and then he was stirring far more than he had been moments before. He was awake, and Erik was trapped.

In a panic, Erik turned and caught Hank's eye. The doctor was still muggy, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. This was his chance, then. Before Hank could grab him up, Erik dove beneath the bed, hoping Hank hadn't noticed him.

Erik crumbled beneath the bed, wrapping his arms around his head as he made himself as small as possible. He felt childish, but he felt like if he couldn't see Hank, then Hank wouldn't be able to see him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and waited.

Hank made confused noises from atop the bed and started searching the room. "Erik?" he called out. Erik heard him sniff the air, and cringed. Could Hank track him by smell alone? If so, he was royally screwed.

Sure enough, moments later Hank was sprawled on the floor, peeking beneath the bed in exasperation. "Erik," Hank groaned, reaching out blindly for Erik to tug him back out in the open. Erik shrieked, shoving himself further beneath the bed, scrambling as far away from Hank's outstretched hand as possible.

Retracting his hand, Hank sighed in annoyance. He took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. "Good. You're awake. I take it you aren't feeling any better?" he asked conversationally, pillowing his head beneath his arms. Erik peeked through his fingers at Hank, both confused and interested. He wasn't going to tear the bed apart trying to get to him?

"Why are you hiding under the bed?" Hank asked quietly, sounding far too confused for the conversation. Erik just gave him an incredulous look, feeling confused himself. Wasn't it obvious why Erik was hiding, or trying to hide, anyway?

"Please, Erik. Can you come out here? I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." Erik bit his lip, feeling torn. Hank had always been so gentle, forever calm and easygoing. What if he was telling the truth, and they didn't have plans of their own for him? What if they really didn't want to hurt him?

It seemed that Erik had been silent for too long, because Hank rose up from the floor, sitting there instead, rubbing his hand through his hair, down his face, at his temples. The situation was giving him a headache, and he wasn't quite sure what to do to make Erik trust him. He hated himself for it, but he could feel himself getting more and more frustrated and angry at Erik for being so stubborn and wary.

If this was how all children acted, he was very certain that he was not going to be cut out to ever be a father. He also felt like he should probably send some sort of 'I'm so sorry' gift to his parents for his own childhood.

But instead of letting his anger break through, he flopped down onto the floor on his back, rolling his head to look at Erik, whose eyes had resumed their previous fearful, uncertain look. As he looked closer, though, he realized that it wasn't just fear clouding the boy's vision, but downright _terror_. Erik was terrified of what Hank would do if he left the bottom of the bed, and Hank felt his frustration and anger slip away like water. He just couldn't stay mad at someone that frightened.

"Erik," he said softly, keeping his hands on his chest where Erik could see them. He kept his eyes warm, his voice soft and kind. Erik's shaking slowed, his eyes calming ever so slightly as he raised his head slowly. Hank smiled serenely. "That's good," Hank praised, seeing the subtle shifts in his body language as a sign of progress. "There we go. Are you feeling a bit better now?"

Erik bit his lip, and Hank found the sight adorable. Erik at this age didn't seem to have as much control over his emotions, because when he had been older, he had been one of the hardest people to read. Now, his every feeling was broadcast on his face for all to see.

Arms held carefully in front of himself, Erik inched just the slightest bit closer to Hank as he nodded. Hank wasn't really sure how to get him to come closer, so he just remained on the floor, turning his head to face the ceiling, and then closed his eyes. "That's wonderful to hear," he continued sleepily. Perhaps if he looked as unassuming as possible, Erik would come out on his own?

Sure enough, after a few silent moments he heard Erik crawling slowly but surely across the floor, the material of his pants rubbing against the floor. When the sound stopped and he could feel breath on his cheek, Hank opened his eyes slowly to meet Erik's solemn gaze. They were nearly nose to nose, and Erik was eyeing him distrustfully, on the verge of diving beneath the bed once more if Hank made one wrong move.

Instead of moving, Hank smiled up at Erik. "Thank you for coming out from there. Thank you for trusting me not to hurt you." Erik watched him warily but eventually nodded, his eyes narrowing when Hank shifted ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

"Would you be alright with me sitting up?" Erik frowned, scowling down at Hank, but eventually nodded, scooting further away from him as he rose slowly.

Hank studied him calmly, and then leaned forward. "How are you feeling, truly? I need to know if your insides hurt, or if you have any injuries I need to take a look at. I'll have to do an exam eventually to make sure they didn't hurt you more than the obvious."

Erik pouted, hating the sound of that, but reminded himself that he was an adult. He was an adult, and he needed to start acting like one instead of a defenseless, pitiful child.

A deep breath fortified his internal declaration and he nodded, coming close enough to touch once more. Hank looked surprised, but went along with it.

"Thank you, Erik. I'll try to be quick. You didn't answer me, though. Does anything hurt?" Erik debated with himself for a moment, before shrugging out of his shirt to show Hank the incisions on his chest. Hank's eyes widened at the stitched up slices that looked too similar to autopsy incisions for comfort.

"They hurt?" Erik nodded and Hank ran a finger over the stitches lightly, but saw Erik's flinch. "I'm sorry, Erik. I'll get you some painkillers and antibiotics when we go back downstairs. That will dull the pain, but I can't do much else for it. They stitched it back up correctly, but it will hurt for a while, yet. No running around for a bit, with that healing." Erik nodded in agreement; he didn't think he would be able to run around, anyway.

"Is there anything else?" Erik pointed lower down on his chest, indicating his rib cage. "That too?" A nod was his only answer as Hank began running his hand over the ribs that he could see through Erik's skin. "We'll definitely need to get you eating specific foods to get some fat on you," Hank mumbled to himself. "It's not broken," he decided. "Just bruised. Do you think you could come with me downstairs, to get those pills? You'll feel much better afterwards, I swear."

Erik ground his teeth, but nodded, getting to his feet with a grimmace. Hank rose, as well, watching the pain filled face below him. Without warning, Hank reached down and plucked Erik up, tucking him into his arms.

Looking very unamused, Erik struggled with his words until he spit out, "Not... a _baby_." Hank grinned and tried to hide it by ducking his head, but Erik saw it and shoved against Hank's shoulder, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

"No, no. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed, it's just Alex said something similar earlier. I _know_ you're not a baby. But you _are_ in pain, and I would like to make it easier on you, so you don't hurt so much. Is that alright?"

Erik felt like a right jerk. He shifted uncomfortably in Hank's arms, peeking up at Hank through his lashes before finally nodding reluctantly. Hank reached out and ran a large hand up and down Erik's back, trying to soothe him, and gave him a gentle squeeze, the slightest bit of a hug.

"I'm sorry they hurt you so bad," Hank said softly as he started out of the bedroom and down to the lab. Thankfully they didn't run into anyone, but Erik wasn't even aware of his surroundings any longer. Hank kept bringing up his torture because he didn't know the extent of it, just the scars that had been left behind. Distantly, Erik felt his chest starting to heave, his blood rushing in his ears.

It took a second for Hank to realize that Erik was in the middle of a panic attack, but once he did, he squeezed Erik close to his body and tried to calm him down. "Erik! Erik, I'm sorry. Please, come back to me." Obviously, Erik was not taking his torture as calmly as Hank had thought he was. He was frightened and traumatized and not handling it at all well, and Hank felt like an idiot.

Erik was panicking. He was no longer in Westchester. He was in an endless loop of day after day full of being poked and prodded and cut open and sewn back up again. The doctors and nurses, Trask smiling creepily into his cell, Angel sharing a frightened glance with him. He was _too hot_, he was burning _up_, he couldn't _breath_, he couldn't _think_, he couldn't _speak_, there was _nothing_ anymore but the pain and the fear and the _oh God not again please not again_ running through his mind.

And then like magic, Hank's voice broke through his panic. It was something familiar, something he could latch onto from the real world that didn't involve fresh pain or fear.

When Erik blinked sluggishly and looked up at Hank blankly, Hank sighed in relief. "Good. God, sorry. I'm sorry, Erik. Are you alright now?" When Erik didn't answer, just continued to stare at Hank, Hank took that as a yes and continued on their way. "Alright. Well, we'll go get those pills for you, and then we'll see if we can find something for dinner." Erik didn't argue, just continued staring at Hank like he was trying to see something there just beneath the surface. Hank tried to ignore his piercing gaze as they made their way back downstairs.

Curled up on her bed, Raven wasn't sure just what to do with herself now. Azazel was gone. Angel was gone. Erik was damaged, a child that seemed extremely traumatized. Charles was stuck in a wheelchair, fighting with his own depression. It seemed that everyone she cared about was dying or getting hurt or something else equally terrifying, and most of the time it was because of her.

Would she ruin her baby's future, too? Maybe once the baby was born, she should just give it to Charles and disappear. Causing trouble seemed to be her secondary mutation. She ran a loving hand over her swollen belly, picturing her future if she followed through with that thought.

She would hand the baby over to Charles, watch his eyes light up as he looked down at the newest addition to his family. The baby would be well cared for, she knew. She was well aware how well Charles could raise a baby, he had done well enough with her as a child. And then she would just disappear, maybe lie low for a few years in some small town in the middle of nowhere. She could look like anyone, it wouldn't be too hard. Her baby would grow up happy and loved, and Charles wouldn't have to see her everyday and remember that she was such a terrible person that she had left him bleeding and broken on a beach. Everyone would be better off without her around.

She didn't realize she was crying until she went to shift her position and found her pillow soaked right through. She wiped her face off, hating the feel of the scales on her face. Even after almost a year of Azazel telling her just how beautiful he found her, she still hated her natural appearance. She knew she scared people, and the thought that she might scare her own baby was something that constantly clawed at her mind.

The knock at her door drew her attention away from her morbid thoughts. She just didn't have the will to stand up and answer it. She couldn't even gather enough strength to say 'go away'.

The door opened anyway after a few moments, so all that internal debate had been for nothing. Charles sat there in the doorway, staring warily at his sister sprawled on her bed. He hadn't touched a thing in her room since she had left and there was a thin film of dust on everything, atesting to that.

"Little sister," Charles said, his face exhausted and drawn and sickly pale. She felt her heart shred to pieces at that look. She had caused that, for him to go from her warm, bubbly brother to the broken, addicted wreck she saw in front of her now. Tears welled up in her eyes once more and she sighed, shoving her face back into the pillow so she wouldn't have to see the effects of her failures anymore.

"You're projecting quite loudly, love," Charles explained, sounding far too weary and understanding. Charles had always been like that, taking on the weight of the world with a smile and some kind words, meanwhile he was crumbling and breaking apart inside. She _hated_ that about him, _hated_ that he took her pain with such ease and grace and soothed her soul with _just_ the right words, while hating and blaming himself for every little thing that went wrong.

"Sorry," she said anyway, instead of all the things she really wanted to tell him. She tugged the blanket back up her body, huddling beneath it and setting her yellow eyes to stare at the wall. There was a long silence, and then she heard his wheelchair coming closer. He stopped at her bedside and pried her hand off of the blankets to take in his own.

"I know we have all had our problems with each other. I am not perfect, and I never expected you to be either. But we can move on from all of this. We all have our issues, sister. They won't be fixed overnight, but we can at least try."

When Raven just scowled at the wall, lying there limp and frustrated, Charles sighed. They stayed that way for a long time, before Charles took a deep breath and squeezed her hand once more.

"I heard from a little bird that Azazel was a fine man. Tell me about him?"

Raven shuddered and closed her eyes, feeling her heart both swell and shatter at the same time. At least Charles was trying. She kept reminding herself that Charles had only ever known Azazel as an enemy, and she admitted that he had done terrible things during his time with Shaw, but she loved him all the same.

So she wiped away her tears, cleared her throat, and started telling him stories of her year away from home. Any hovering thoughts of leaving the moment the baby was born were carefully shoved aside in favor of reminiscing.


	7. Chapter 7

Alex wandered the building he had called home for a short time and debated over what to do next. He wasn't really needed around here; Hank was the resident doctor, there to make sure everyone stayed healthy. Raven was Charles' sister and would always have a place at his side no matter what happened. Erik was vulnerable right now, so fragile and frightened and in need of constant care, so Charles wouldn't throw him out on his own any time soon.

That just left him. When he had heard through the grapevine that his old friends needed help busting people out of a lab, he had hightailed it back to the mansion in less than ten hours. And come on, everyone needed a little extra firepower every now and then. But he had done his job, he reasoned. He should just leave them be now. They had their own problems to deal with.

But then he would see Charles wheeling around the house, face drawn and far too pale; Hank sitting jittery in his lab, tapping his fingers on the table as he paced and muttered and raged as he tried to get work done in the lab; how Raven lay listless in her room for hours at a time, refusing everything because her grief was so deep and fresh. And then there was Erik, who stared at everyone with huge Bambi eyes and flinched if you so much as looked at him wrong. He was quiet and small and skittered at the edge of everyone's vision, never actively participating unless Hank or Charles forced him to, and then he would stutter over his words and turn red in the face before bolting from the room.

It was as he was thinking through all of this while he pummeled a punching bag into oblivion that he heard someone at the door. Whoever it was was shuffling awkwardly on their feet. Alex checked the time out of the corner of his eye; it was nearly two in the morning. Everyone should already be in bed. When he turned to glance at the doorway, he saw Erik peeking in warily; his eyes were wide, hair messy, and pajamas rumpled.

Alex felt his nerves calm just at the sight of his former mentor. Erik had been closer to Alex than the others, mostly because they both had tried using anger to fuel their mutations but had been forced to see that anger was not everything by Charles.

That had left Alex feeling a bit of kinship with the former Nazi-hunter and it still remained, even after Erik had stranded them on that god-forsaken beach. What could he say? He had liked the asshole.

Erik bit his lip, inching away from Alex's intense gaze, before Alex realized that he had been staring and not speaking.

He released the punching bag, letting it swing on its chain as he removed the gloves he was wearing. Erik watched him warily, craning his neck to see what Alex would do next. He slipped his hands into a pair of flat gloves and waved at the doorway.

"Come here Erik. I promise, I don't bite." Erik bit his lip, deliberating, before taking a few cautious steps into the gym. Alex got down on one knee and waited with a calm, patient expression for Erik to stop in front of him. "Can't sleep either?" he asked, knowing the answer from the dark smudges beneath Erik's eyes and the way he wouldn't meet Alex's gaze.

"I can't either. Wanna practice with me for a bit? It helps, sometimes." Erik nodded, scrunching his hands up in his shirt as he watched Alex's calm, smooth movements.

"C'mon, hit me. Best shot," Alex goaded, smiling widely when Erik reared back and slammed his fist into Alex's gloved hand. "Good one. Got some more for me?" Erik smirked and punched with all he had, hitting one glove and then the other, back and forth and back and forth until he was grinning like a loon and heaving breaths. He pulled back one last time, getting sloppy as he tired, and missed the gloves, slamming his fist into Alex's nose with a loud _crack_! Erik reeled back, his hands covering his mouth as he gasped, backpedaling in shock and fear as his eyes filled with tears. And things had been going so well!

"Es tut mir leid! Sorry, sorry!" he warbled, his face screwing up in fear as the tears fell down his cheeks. He skittered back towards the door, not sure if he should run away or stay and try to help.

Alex reeled back in surprise more than pain. Sure, his nose was broken because even as a little kid, Erik packed a big punch. But he had been hit in the face more times than he could remember and he was pretty used to it by now. It was shocking for a long moment, but he recovered quickly. He got back up on his knees, covering his bleeding nose with one hand while he searched for Erik. He saw him hovering in the doorway, fear flooding his face as he waited to see how Alex would react.

He smiled shakily at Erik, holding his arms open invitingly. "Hey, come on now. It's fine. It was an accident. I'm fine." Erik dithered for a moment before throwing himself into Alex's arms.

"I'm sorry," Erik said sadly, sounding so very miserable from where he smushed his face into Alex's chest.

"I told you, it's fine. I know you didn't do it on purpose." Alex rubbed his hand up and down Erik's back, trying to calm him down. Once his breathing evened out from the wracking sobs into something more calm, Alex tugged him back to see his face. He knew his nose was bleeding, because head wounds sucked, but hopefully it didn't look too frightening.

"You were thinking about leaving, and now you're going to, because I was stupid and I wouldn't blame you if you weren't here in the morning, I always screw everything up, I can never keep anything good...," Erik rambled, his wide eyes staring at Alex with fresh tears.

Alex felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline. Did Erik really think that? "What? No, Erik. I'm not leaving. Not any time soon, anyway." And since when did he decide that? Maybe it was the face Erik was giving him, all sad and hopeful. Maybe he just wanted to be somewhere safe with his friends again.

Alex felt his lips twitch as Erik relaxed ever so slightly in his grasp. "Promise?" he asked, hating how small his voice sounded, but he needed to be sure. If Alex left...

"I promise, buddy." He buried his nose in Erik's hair, ruffling it slowly. "Now, let's go see if Hank will take a look at my nose. Maybe if we ask really nicely, he'll even make us some hot chocolate. What do you think?" he asked playfully, rising to his feet with Erik in his arms in one fluid movement.

Erik smirked, laughing quietly into Alex's shoulder. Alex toted them through the mansion until they wound up outside Hank's lab. The light was still on, so Alex wandered right in, setting Erik down on a bench and going over to where Hank was bent over a microscope, snoring lightly.

"Hey, Beast. Wake up. We've got a situation." Alex nudged Hank in the shoulder with his hip, snorting as he watched Hank flail awake, half falling out of his chair.

"What? What's wrong? Is Erik alright?"

Erik was touched that he was one of the first things that Hank asked about. Alex just pointed to his nose and waited for Hank to make the connection.

"Ah. That I can fix." He went to work on fixing Alex's nose, setting it and placing a clip to keep it from shifting. The bleeding stopped and Hank cleaned the remaining blood on his face off calmly.

"So how did this happen?" Hank asked conversationally, dabbing at Alex's nose.

"Bit of a mishap with the boxing gloves," Alex explained, tipping his head in Erik's direction.

Hank glanced his way, noticing the boy's guilty expression as he kneaded his hands in his tshirt. He sent him a soft, understanding smile and watched Erik's whole body relax.

"Eh, it happens," Hank replied, turning back to Alex, who gave him a grateful look. It would have been horrible if Hank had laid into Erik about hurting someone.

"Alright, I'm finished with you," Hank said after a few more minutes, slapping Alex on the shoulder. Then he turned to Erik and wiped down his knuckles. "Are you ready for bed now? It's a bit late," Hank asked quietly. Erik turned to Alex with wide, pleading eyes, and Alex smirked.

"Hank," Alex sang out cheerily. "Since we made such perfect patients, we were wondering if you could make us that delicious hot chocolate that I know you know how to make? Please?" Alex wheedled, grasping his hands in front of his chest. Erik smiled at Alex's display and copied his pleading expression.

Hank caved almost instantly. "Fine. One mug each, and then it's back to bed. For _both_ of you," Hank said sternly, waving a finger in Alex's face. Alex shot off a quick salute, winked at Erik, and then threw the little metalbender over his shoulder and carted him after Hank into the kitchen.

Erik squirmed on Alex's shoulder, but Alex's grip was strong and stabalizing. For the first time since he had arrived back at the mansion, Erik felt the knot of worry and instability loosen in his chest. He felt like he could breath easily for the first time in weeks.

Alex dropped Erik onto the counter and then went about bugging Hank until their drinks were ready. "Alright, it's going to be hot. Don't drink it right away," Hank warned, and Erik rolled his eyes, slightly aggravated. It's like they kept forgetting he was only a child in body, not mind.

"I'm no baby," Erik pointed out once again, grinding his teeth in annoyance.

Hank just rolled his eyes and punched Alex playfully in the shoulder. "Who said I was talking to you, short stuff?" Erik spluttered on a laugh and Alex pouted at the bigger mutant.

"That's cold, Hank," he whined. As Erik giggled, Hank and Alex exchanged loaded glances over his head; _crisis averted_.

Erik chose to ignore them in favor of his drink, watching the steam rise up off the liquid. He blew on it for a few minutes before daring to take a small sip, nearly spilling when he found that it was still far too hot. Alex was at his side in a moment, steadying the mug and wiping the dripped hot chocolate off of Erik's face.

Erik, in turn, simply pouted, glaring at his drink unhappily. Alex rolled his eyes but took up a perch beside Erik on the counter, choosing not to comment.

After a few more minutes, Erik rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, feeling the tiredness tugging at his limbs now that he had gotten a bit of the warm liquid into his body. Now that it was cooler, he was practically guzzling the stuff. The warm feeling spreading from his chest outwards was like a godsend; he hadn't felt this warm or comfortable in weeks.

As he tilted sideways into Alex's shoulder, Alex glanced down to find him dozing. With a fond look in his eyes, Alex scooped the boy up and toted him up to his room, dropping him onto the bed and under the covers. As he turned to leave, he glanced around the room. It was so _bare_, not something that any kid would enjoy. Though Erik liked to remind them that he was in no way a _baby_, he was usually acting younger than he supposedly was mentally.

Perhaps in the morning he would run to town, grab Erik some more clothes and toys, some things to hang on his walls and blankets that were soft and comfortable.

In the morning, though. Now, it was time for some much needed sleep.

He didn't get much, though. He woke up from a deep sleep about two hours later to noise from the room next door, which just so happened to be Erik's. Grumbling to himself, Alex fell out of bed and went to investigate.

Erik was buried beneath a mass of blankets, shaking and shivering. His face was wet with tears and Alex tried to reach out and wipe them off. Before his fingers even made contact with his face, Erik let out the most pitiful whimper he had ever heard, and then shivered and rolled away, nearly rolling right off the bed.

"Erik, buddy. You need to wake up for me, okay?" He reached out and knudged at Erik's blanket coccoon, waiting for any response. After a few more minutes of gentle prodding, Erik rolled over to glare up at Alex groggily, before he realized just what had happened.

His groan was long, loud, and heartfelt. "I woke you up?" he asked, sounding disappointed with himself.

Alex just shrugged, though Erik wasn't looking at him. "These walls are pretty thin, I could hear you. Come on, we can keep each other company for a while."

And without bothering to get Erik's opinion on that, Alex scooped him up and carried him into his own room, curling under the blankets and tugging Erik under his blankets with him.

Erik struggled for a bit, trying to get out of Alex's hold, but it was futile. "Quit squirming and go to sleep," Alex grumbled, tightening his hold ever so slightly. Erik sighed but did settle down, turning his face into Alex's throat with a heavy sigh.

When Erik woke the next morning, Alex had already disappeared from the bed. Thinking nothing of it, Erik crawled out of the bed and went about getting himself ready for the day. When he finally wandered downstairs, Charles was the only one in sight.

With a confused scowl on his face, Erik went about doing mild acrobatics to get himself some breakfast, while Charles watched from the table. With a pang of guilt, Erik realized that Charles wasn't helping him not because he didn't want to, but because he physically couldn't.

Keeping his eyes on his newly acquired breakfast, Erik sat down opposite Charles and munched on his cereal in silence. He could feel Charles' eyes on him, studying him. By the time he was halfway through his bowl, he had had enough of the silent judgement.

"If you have something to say, sag es!" he grumbled, eyes blazing in aggravation. Charles looked down at him with sad eyes, his hair scraggly and unkempt, looking terrible and defeated.

"I don't mean to stare, Erik." He paused, not quite sure how to continue, until he blurted, "You know, if you ever need to talk, or want to talk, that I'm here for you." And Gott, but he looked so sincere, so heartbroken.

Erik scowled, glaring into his cereal bowl. "Why? If I wasn't stuck like this, you wouldn't have a thing to do with me!" he shouted back, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "And I don't blame you. I wouldn't want anything to do with me, either. Not after what I did." He glanced at the wheelchair through his fringe, giving it a dirty look, before averting his eyes in shame. _He_ had done that, _he_ was the reason Charles couldn't walk. He could continue to lie to himself for forever and a day, but it would never change what he knew in his heart: he had hurt one of his dearest friends, in an offhanded, spur of the moment split second decision, a reflex really.

And by the look on Charles' face, he knew exactly what was going through Erik's mind, without even using his powers. Nevertheless, Erik felt the need to reiterate: "Stay out of my head!" Charles looked like a kicked puppy once more, shaking his head sadly.

"I'm not anywhere near your thoughts, Erik. However, your face is practically screaming your guilt and shame. I understand how you must be feeling, really. But Erik, I don't blame you. Yes, I was angry for a very long time, but I've come to terms with this; that I'll never have use of my legs again. I'm not holding some hidden grudge against you, I promise."

"Promises are made to be broken, _old friend_," Erik spat out, thinking of his promise to bring Azazel back to Raven, of his promise to help Charles, of the promise his mother had given him right before her death. Nothing had been alright then, and nothing was alright now.

"Erik," Charles breathed out, sounding almost in pain. "Some things cannot be avoided. Some promises have to be broken, that doesn't mean that every promise is null and void the moment it's made."

Thinking of promises brought up his memory of the night before, the promise Alex had made him, that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon. A black pit of doubt grew in his stomach, his eyes widening as he realized what the empty bed might actually mean. Had Alex deserted them, even after promising?

Still, what was a promise made to someone like him?

"I think I'm going to be sick," Erik warned, before he darted from the room, sprinting upstairs to the nearest bathroom, where he collapsed to the ground and leaned his head against the toilet bowl, dry heaving.

He could hear shouting downstairs, but ignored it. He layed there in his misery until he felt someone picking him up, holding him against his chest.

"Erik, what's wrong? Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?" He was in Hank's arms now, but he didn't want Hank, he wanted Alex, where was Alex, had he run him off like he ran everyone else off eventually?

He dissolved into tears, burying his face into Hank's neck as he whined and whimpered. He must have let out Alex's name at some point, because Hank grunted in understanding as he took them both downstairs.

"Alex said he was going into town for a few things, he didn't leave for good. He didn't want to wake you, but he let me know before he left that he'd be back as soon as possible." And just like that, the constriction that wasn't letting him get a breath in disappeared, and he gulped in air.

"He's not gone?" he asked, just to be sure he understood Hank correctly. Hank buried his nose in Erik's short hair and nodded.

"He's not gone. He'll be right back." Erik's body shaking sigh of relief calmed him down, and he was back to being mortified. Ugh, he had broken down in front of Charles. He had acted like a child, made himself sick over the idea that Alex might have left.

But not just left them, left _him_.

He was so _tired_, tired of losing people, of people leaving him. He had been alone for so long that he had thought he was used to it by now. Apparently, that was not the case.

And of course, Alex had terrible timing. As Erik was trying to surrepticiously wipe his eyes on Hank's shoulder, Alex walked through the door, bags fit to bursting in his arms. He took one good look at Erik's face and dropped the bags by the door, taking two long strides into the kitchen and scooping Erik up into his arms, shushing him and rubbing his back while giving Hank his best 'what the hell' look.

"He thought you had left for good. Almost made himself sick." Alex frowned. Erik shook in his arms in relief more than fear, and closed his eyes, breathing in Alex's scent.

"Kid, I _just_ told you last night that I wasn't leaving any time soon. I promised, remember?"

And here was where Charles interrupted, looking pained and remorseful. "I think that was my doing. Erik and I were having a discussion about promises; I think that's what caused all this."

Alex sighed, rolled his eyes, and went to the doorway to pick up all his packages before taking Erik upstairs to his room. "You gotta start trusting me Erik. I told you I wasn't leaving and then you go and make yourself sick because you didn't believe me? You know me better than that!"

Erik pouted when he was set on the bed. Alex ignored him and started piling bags next to him, instead. Erik took time away from pouting to peek curiously next to him. He knudged one of the bags with his elbow and watched as it tipped on its side and spilled out onto the bed. There were a few race cars, a couple colorful, soft blankets. Underneath those were a tin of little green army men and toy trucks. A peak into the other bag showed that there were enough clothes stuffed inside to last him weeks.

With a sigh, Erik closed his eyes tight, feeling the ball of anger and resignation form in the pit of his stomach. "How many times do I have to tell you all that I'm no child? Those bastards may have changed my physiology, but I'm still an adult!"

Alex slammed the dresser drawer he had been rummaging through and turned to glare down at Erik. "I'm sorry, kid. But you are not the same person that went into that facility weeks ago." Alex stepped forward and wagged a finger in Erik's astonished face. "Adults don't flip their shit when someone runs to town for an hour. Adults don't accidentally break someone's nose and then practically bawl their eyes out about it. You never would have acted like that before, but I'm not really complaining." Alex stopped his rant long enough to look down and notice Erik's teary eyes. He instantly felt like a jackass; it was one thing to notice Erik's odd behavior and trade looks with the others, but it was something else entirely to point it out so plainly to Erik.

Without a word, Alex scooped Erik up and wrapped him up in one of the new blankets. Erik would never admit it, but it felt nice. Even if Alex had just been yelling at him, he knew Alex still cared about what happened to him. "You're gonna be the death of me, kid," Alex sighed, ruffling Erik's hair with a heavy hand.

Erik sighed, burrowing deeper into Alex's shoulder. That's what he feared; that he would be the death of the people around him. He always was, it seemed.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles sat outside of Raven's room, staring at the wooden door with a worried frown on his face. It had been days since Raven had left her room and she had even stopped answering them when they called for her through the door. They left meals at the door and they were always picked at when they returned for the plates, so they knew she was getting at least a little nutrition. But still his little sister wouldn't leave her room. He could feel her presence behind the door, her anguish and sadness radiating through their link.

He could picture her in his mind's eyes, huddled beneath a pile of blankets and cuddling a pillow like she could will her grief away. Charles just wanted to open the door and hold her close, but he knew that she would only despise him for it right now.

"Raven. Please, come out."

The only answer was deafening silence.

Erik was hidden around the corner, watching the way Charles' shoulder slumped in resignation when the door remained steadfastly closed in his face. The professor sighed and turned his chair back down the hallway, wheeling further and further away from Erik and Raven's door until he was around the corner and out of earshot.

Guilt was a heavy feeling in Erik's chest. It was _his_ fault Raven was so sad right now. Once he was sure Charles was back downstairs, Erik crept up to her door and used his powers to gently twist the mechanism in the lock. The door clicked open slowly and Erik peeked his head around the jamb.

"Raven?" he whispered, sounding shy and timid and small, all the things he swore he wasn't. The lump on the bed twitched but didn't move any further. Erik bit his lip but steeled himself as he took another step into the room, leaving the door cracked open behind him. Raven still hadn't acknowledged him, so once he was level with her face beneath the blankets he stopped, unsure what to do next. There was an invitingly open space at her side, just calling for him to occupy it. He debated with himself for a long moment before he sighed and crawled up onto the bed, sitting beside him. "Raven." He pressed at the lump on the bed gently. A shaky smile flashed across his face when she rolled over, glaring up at him petulantly.

She looked _terrible_. She was blue and scaly still, just like she should be. But the deep blue of her skin had faded to a sickly grey and her yellow eyes seemed almost orange. She didn't look angry to see him invading her bed, though. Just _exhausted_.

"R-Raven. I'm so _sorry_." He felt his face crumple, his tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. He backed away from her awkwardly, nearly toppling off of the bed in his haste to get out of her personal space. This had been such a stupid idea. If she wouldn't come out of her room for _Charles_, why had he thought she would come out for him? This was all his fault.

Once he had fallen onto the floor, scrambling backwards towards the door, his breathing was hitching painfully from his frightened panic. Raven would be so mad, and she would hate him forever, and what was he thinking in the first place?

"_Erik_," she called out, voice cracking from disuse. She didn't sound angry, though she sounded confused and surprised. "Erik, come here. What's wrong?"

Erik stopped his awkward shuffling, leaning his back against the wall instead. "Are you mad at me?" he whimpered, hiding his face behind his hands.

There was a long silence in which Erik's mind supplied her response. Of course she was mad at him, she had to be _furious_! Azazel was dead. Angel was dead. Everyone was dead and it was all his fault. And now Raven would have to raise her baby all by herself. Azazel would have been such a good daddy.

"Honey, look at me." Erik's breath hitched in his throat, but he lowered his hands just enough to see Raven sitting up in bed, leaning on her elbows. She looked concerned and frightened, but not angry. He sighed and closed his eyes. At least she wasn't angry. "I'm not mad, Erik. Especially not at you. You did everything you could to get Azazel and Angel back, and you paid the price for that. I'm not angry at you. I'm just really, really sad."

Erik uncurled from his tightly wound ball, taking hesitant steps back towards Raven's bed. He stopped beside her, hands twisting awkwardly in his shirt. He peeked up at her through his lashes, hoping that what she had said was true.

"I really am sorry, Raven. I miss Azazel, too. And Angel." He swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to blink back his tears again. Raven didn't hesitate to reach out to him and tug him up beside her on the bed. He curled against her, fitting comfortably between her belly and the bed.

They laid like that for a long time, nothing but silence between them. Erik had left the door cracked open slightly and it was Alex that found them a few hours later, a lunch tray in his arms. He looked shocked when he saw them cuddling together on the bed.

"Raven," Alex breathed out, the tray forgotten on the desk in the room as he rushed in. "Raven, you finally let someone in!"

Raven smiled tiredly, shaking her head even as she squeezed Erik tight. "He just walked right in. Sneaky little kid, aren't ya?" She ruffled Erik's hair and watched as he huffed in annoyance, though he was grinning again moments later.

Alex's eyes softened at the sight. "Are you ready to come out, now? Charles has been worried sick."

Raven sighed, leaning further in her pile of pillows. "I guess it's time, isn't it?" She rubbed a hand over her belly slowly, closing her eyes in resignation. Erik stumbled off of the bed and stood by Alex's side while Alex helped Raven sit up.

She smiled at him in thanks and slowly followed them out of the room, taking a deep, steading breath before stepping across the barrier from her room to the hallway.

Erik reached up to take her hand and smiled reassuringly, tugging her along down to the kitchen. Charles was hunched over the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Hank was puttering around near the stove, humming under his breath. When he caught sight of Raven in the doorway, he startled and the spatula in his hand tumbled to the floor.

"Hank, what's wrong?" Charles asked, looking worried as he watched the tall mutant carefully.

"Hey, Raven. It's nice to see you up," Hank said instead, smiling shakily at the blue mutant. Charles twisted around in his chair, eyes wide and happy once he saw his sister in the doorway.

"Raven," he breathed, his smile blinding in its sincerity. Raven just grinned, reaching out to wrap an arm around Charles' shoulders. She collapsed to her knees in the next second and huddled her arms around Charles' torso instead, hiding her face in his neck.

"Thank you, Charles. For giving me some time, for letting me stay," she said, her voice choked full of tears. Charles just shushed her, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

"You're my sister, young lady. I would never be so cruel to you."

As the siblings reunited, Alex pulled Erik over to the table. He sat down and pulled Erik onto his lap. Erik curled close, loving the contact. "You did a good job, Erik. I'm proud of you." Erik hummed happily against Alex's chest, fisting a hand in Alex's shirt so he wouldn't set him down any time soon.

The telepath stalked across the hall, glaring at the string of empty cells. The stupid little boy and his friends had ruined _everything_. Her employers needed him back, and they had said that grabbing the others along the way wouldn't hurt, either.

She glared at the boy's cell, looking for any clues. Her eyes caught on a scrap of fabric in the corner and her lips curled up in a vicious smirk. The sweater, she supposed. The prisoners had been using it for warmth before the girl had been taken away, so she supposed it might have a remnant of them left behind for her to use.

Sure enough, once the sweater was in her hand she could feel the electric tug of the boy. So, he was still alive then. Strange. The experiment must have worked better than they had all thought.

With the sweater clutched in one hand and surety in her steps, the telepath stomped from the room, only one thought on her mind.

She would find Erik Lehnsherr, and he would have nowhere he could hide.


End file.
